Loving Amelia
by TwiggyFallon
Summary: He felt like a fool for being crazy over a girl. All the other times he’d sit back and let them do all the work. But this girl was different. Please R&R!
1. Not So Usual

"So what's the deal, Spotty?" David asked, clenching his eyes as Spot hit him upside the head for calling him Spotty.

"East side's out. The Battery came in last night an' beat mosta 'da guys, up, only leavin' a few wid' only bruises, like Queens did ta us last night," Spot told the boys at Tibby's.

"Wait… I don' understan' 'dis whole thin'. What does it mattah where 'dey sell as long as 'dey got they own territory?" Sneaks from Brooklyn asked.

"It's simple. The Battery takes over East side's territory, so 'dey sell twice as many papes. 'Dis all comes back ta the strike. The Battery is thinkin' only faw themselves an' 'dey

se want more money."

"So where does 'dat leave us?" Jack asked, sipping his root beer.

"Fucked, 'dat's where," Spot said, sitting down clumsily on a chair and rubbing his forehead while he thought.

"So what are we'se gonna do?" Race asked, taking a big puff of his cigar, exhaling in David's face.

There was a moment of silence in which everyone stared at Spot, expecting an answer.

"Ain't it obvious?" Spot said angrily. "We'se is gonna hafta keep 'em outta the lodgin' house 'til we all find otha places ta live."

All the boys' eyes widened as some of them stood up to protest.

"Whaddaya mean find otha places ta live?" Pitch from Brooklyn yelled.

"Jist what I said, we'se move outta the lodgin' house," Spot answered.

"Are ya outta ya mind?" Race argued. "What am I gonna do, huh? Live on 'da street like a bum?"

"No," David said, shaking his head. "We'll find a place to live. I mean that's our only option, right?"

"It ain't your only option Davey, I think if I had parents I'd take advantage of it," Jack spat, and David shot him a look.

"A'ight, lissen. None a us like it, right? Well 'dat's too bad. Last night Queens gave Sleeper a black eye. Y'know how old Sleeper is? Seven!" Spot shouted.

"A'ight, but quittin' ain't gonna make 'dis any bettah. I mean, since when is Spot Conlon a quittah?" Jack asked, and everyone became silent. No one had _ever _called Spot Conlon a quitter.

Spot took a moment to calm down before he spoke gain. "Y'know what, Jackie boy? I ain't a quittah. Let's think b'out this. You're goin' down, we're goin' down, East Side's goin' down, last week Midtown got busted! Midtown an' Queens is in this together, an' y'know they can crack all of ourse's skulls wid' one hand!"

The boys didn't say anything, because they knew he was right. A few weeks ago at a rally was the first time anyone had seen Spot run away from a scab – or a hundred scabs.

"I know it's gonna be hard, an' if some a you'se wanna go ta Queens or the Battery I don't blame you'se, although I'd call ya a bum. But I'se think it's the right thing ta do."

"Spot's right," David agreed.

"So y'know what I think, Jackie boy, now what 'bout you'se?" He said, his icy blue eyes testing Jack.

Jack thought for a moment, then gave Spot a nod. "A'ight."

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The next day before work, the boys sulked around like they'd just witnessed a shooting. The word had gotten around that they would be out of the lodging house by next month or less – and none of them, especially the younger ones, knew what to do.

It didn't help that it was also the hottest day of summer. Spot had almost finished his usual rounds with Pitch when Pitch saw a group of older women to sell to. Spot, feeling the hot sun beating on his forehead, leaned against a lamppost, too tired to even try to say any more papes, until –

"Excuse me," a soft voice said. Spot felt his head jerk to the side out of surprise. And when he turned around, his heart skipped a beat or two – and not because of the weather. She had the softest green eyes and hair dark like rich chocolate, and there were five children at her side.

"I'd like a paper, please," she said in a subtle English accent.

"Uh – yeah, uh…" _Jesus_, that was the first time Spot ever stuttered in front of a girl.

The girl smiled, and he noticed the glow of her cheeks and her rosy lips as the sun shone on her face. "How much is one paper?"

"It's uh – a penny a pape," Spot managed to say. She took out a lavender coin purse and handed him the penny.

"So uh… ah these youah kids?" Spot asked awkwardly, reasoning that it was better to ask her something awkward than to not start a conversation at all.

"Oh, no," she giggled. _Well, at least she thought he was funny._ "I'm a governess. Goodness, do I really look that old?" She asked, gratefully taking the newspaper from his hand.

"No, not at all, I jist thought – "

The girl shrugged, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's alright. I was actually starting to feel old and I just turned eighteen."

Spot's eyes lit up with the knowledge that he at least had something in common with her.

"Oh, me too."

"So uh…" Spot continued speaking with the fear of standing in front of her in silence.

"Ya live 'round heah?" He asked, not trying to sound nosy.

"Yes, just a couple blocks down on Godfrey Street. In fact, these are Edward Netherfield's children," the girl said, as though Spot should have known who he was.

"Oh, _Nether_field," Spot nodded. "An' all these are his kids?" Spot asked, realizing that the kids had now gone off to play near the fountain.

"Yes," the girl said proudly. "The oldest girl is Iris in the white hat. And the one she's holding is the youngest, Eleanor. And in the gray knickers is Iris's twin Harrison, they're both eight." Mid-sentence, spot began to look at her in admiration for how she seemed to dearly love the children.

"And sitting down in the yellow dress is Agatha, she's five. And the oldest is there in the black vest is Francis; he's ten."

"Well, uh… they seem very – "

"Ey, Conlon, ya done yet?" Pitch yelled from the other side of the road, as if he was trying to embarrass Spot as much as possible.

"Jist a secon'," Spot yelled back.

"Well, we must be going, thank-you very much for the paper," the girl smiled.

"Wait!" Spot yelled just as she started to call the children. "I didn't catch ya name."

"It's Amelia," the girl said. Spot smiled. He liked the way it rolled off her tongue.

"Amelia Moss."


	2. A New Home

Spot awoke the next morning in a cold sweat because of the dream he had the night before. He didn't even remember what happened – the events were construed together as a blur – but all he remembered was that in the dream, he saw Amelia.

Spot purposely sold in the same Spot the next day, and the next day – and the next day. However, none of these days did he see Amelia. In fact, he didn't see her again at all until exactly one week later. It was less hot than the last time they met – but when he saw her from afar, he felt the same amount of perspiration in his armpits.

He watched her pushing the baby carriage like a young mother, and telling one of the young girls to stay out of the street. He felt a soft spot grow in his heart – a soft spot that he never even knew existed. He felt himself grow angry at this; he wasn't used to something (some_one_) taking his breath away.

"Hello again," Amelia said, seeming surprised to see him again – in the same spot as she had last week. She had a slight feeling that maybe he had taken a fancy to her.

"Hello," Spot returned awkwardly. _Hello? Hello? When the fuck have I ever said hello?_

"Would ya like a pape?" He asked, trying to be as sweet as he could to earn a penny.

"Of course I would, thank you," Amelia said, graciously taking the paper.

"So uh… how are 'da kids?" Spot inquired. Aggie grabbed onto Amelia's white dress.

"They're a bit rambunctious today, but I suppose that can be said for all children, can't it?" Amelia smiled, then suddenly whipped her head around to make sure the children were still there.

"Hey uh… I got a favor ta ask ya. See… two nights ago 'da guys from Queens an' the Battery came in an' are tryin' ta take away our territory so 'dey'se can sell more papes –"

Spot stopped for a breath and noticed that not only did Amelia not understand a word Spot was saying, but that she didn't know where the Battery was.

"Long story short… I need a place ta stay. An' I was thinkin' –" Spot, suddenly embarrassed, looked to the ground. "I was thinkin' I could stay at Mr. Netherfield's. I mean I'd still sell papes, but I'd woik 'round the house ta earn my keep."

"Well, I don't know what Mr. Netherfield would say of course, but I can give you the address so you can talk to him yourself." Spot nodded graciously and listened carefully.

"He lives at 3200 Godfrey Street," Amelia told him.

"Will you'se open the door so I don' look like some random street rat?" He smirked.

"Well that depends. During the day I'm at the house, but I sleep in the guest house that's right next door."

"A'ight, well I'll come when I'm done sellin' 'den," Spot thought out loud. "An' uh… thanks again."

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Spot was anxious the whole rest of the day – he felt his heart palpitate when he took a break and began thinking about Amelia. He felt like a fool for being crazy over a girl. All the other times he'd sit back and let them do all the work; girls always ran after Spot Conlon.

The doorbell rang at about twelve, and it was one of the long, sing-song doorbells that were only seen on huge houses. In fact, Mr. Netherfield's house was at least four times bigger than the Brooklyn lodging house.

"Spot, hi," Amelia said, wiping a piece of hair from her eyes with the one hand she wasn't using to hold Eleanor against her hip.

"Hey, uh… is Mr. Netherfield heah?" Spot asked, hands in his pockets.

"Yes, he's in his office," Amelia answered, offering to take his hat and opening the door to Mr. Netherfield's office.

The man in the gray suit looked up from his work on his desk at Amelia with questioning eyes. "Yes, Amelia?"

"Sir, there is someone to see you."

Upon seeing Spot standing directly behind her, he nodded.

"Thank-you, Amelia, send him in."

Spot walked in slowly, not knowing what to do or how to act in front of a man of power.

"What can I do for you, young man?" Mr. Netherfield said, signing his name on the bottom of a document.

"Uh… sir, my name's Spot Conlon, an' I woik as a newsie in Brooklyn. But uh… well, somedin' came up an' we all's gotta move outta the lodgin' house, an'… well –"

"You need a place to stay," the man said almost absent-mindedly.

"Yes sir," Spot nodded.

"And why here?" Mr. Netherfield asked, suddenly looking up from his work as though he expected a real answer.

"Well sir, I jist met Amelia a few days ago an' she told me she woiked an' lived heah an' that you had a great family…"

As Spot paused, the man searched his face expectantly. "Yes?"

"I was jist wonderin' if I could still sell papes in the mornin', 'den woik fa you at night."

"Mmhmm…" Mr. Netherfield thought, filing through some papers. "What do you propose, Mr. Conlon?"

"Well, I thought I could maybe, y'know… do some woik 'round the house an' –"

"You're on the right track, boy," he smiled. "What time do you usually get out of work?"

"Normally 'round twelve, sir."

"Aright, I'll make a deal with you. You work in the morning selling papers, and in the afternoon you either clean the house or help Amelia with the children, seeing as she can't always attend to all of the children with all of Eleanor's dirty diapers."

"Ya mean… like a… a maid?" Spot asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, young man, no," Mr. Netherfield laughed. "Think of it as a…. house attendant. After all, my maid – I'm sorry, my previous _house attendant _left only a month ago, and the house has been a mess ever since. I've no time to clean it."

"That would be great," Spot said, surprised that he found it in himself to be so polite.

"It's not a problem, young man. It's a joy to have another helper in my home. Amelia?" Mr. Netherfield said loudly, and in a matter of seconds, Amelia came running.

"Yes, sir?"

"Kindly show the young man around and to the guest house," he said, returning to his work.

"Yes, sir."

Amelia closed the French doors to his office and showed Spot around the house which appeared to him to be a mansion. The house was filled with ornate columns, linoleum floors and expensive furnishings, all of which Spot was afraid to even breathe on. Amelia showed him the kitchen, dining room, the living room, the lounge, the downstairs powder room, Mr. Netherfield's bedroom, the children's bedroom, the playroom, two guest bedrooms (in which the cook and tutor lived), and the master bathroom.

After showing Spot the house, Amelia took Spot to the guest house next door, and he was pleasantly surprised. The house was small and cozy, made out of thick cobblestone with a chimney and fence. On the inside, there was a small kitchen with a table, a bathroom and two bedrooms.

"Wow… 'dis is biggah 'den the bunkroom in 'da lodgin' house," Spot observed. "Ya gotta cook fa yourself?" He asked, as though living alone should make her lonely.

"Sometimes," Amelia sighed. "Usually I eat with the family, or with the cook; sometimes with Wesley, the tutor. But I buy a little food with my savings just in case," she smiled. "I love it here. It's cozy and I have everything I need." Spot smiled at her; he loved hearing her talk.

"Would you like some tea?" Amelia asked, wiping her hands on her dress and reaching in the cupboard for the small, antique-looking teapot.

"Yeah, thanks." Spot leaned back in the creaky chair admired how homey Amelia made the place look. It almost reminded him of home.

"Where are the kids?" Spot asked, suddenly remembering they were here to work.

"Eating lunch with Mildred, the cook, and Wesley. You'll get to meet them later. In the mean time, you should appreciate the quiet while you've got it. The children normally don't prefer to keep silent," she smiled. _Jesus, she smiles a lot. _

"So what do ya usually do wid' 'em?" Spot asked, getting up to help Amelia reach two mugs from the cupboard.

"Sometimes we go outside for walks or play games. I've been helping the younger ones read – well, except the baby. I'm sure they would love it if you would read a book to them," Amelia suggested, another slight smile forming delicately on her lips.

"Uh, well, I ain't much for readin'."

Amelia shrugged. "Neither was I, but it's a great way to get to know the children."

"I ain't gonna read to 'em," Spot said firmly, looking Amelia square in the eye, and she would be lying to say she wasn't frightened.

"Al – alright," she stammered, quickly pouring tea into the two mugs and returning to the table with her cup.

"Sorry," Spot said awkwardly, grabbing his cup to sit opposite her at the table. "I'd love ta read ta 'em, I jist…"

"Don't know how?" Amelia smirked.

Spot mirrored her look. "Yeah."

"Not a problem, I'll teach you."


	3. Walk On Me

"You can stay in here," Amelia said, leading him to the bedroom on the left. "It's not very big, but you have your own space."

Spot walked in behind her slowly, taking a look around the whole room. It was dimly lit with wood paneling and hardwood floors. In the corner there was a bed which looked like it would squeak if you even put just a finger on it. There was a small window in the far wall, with a view of the back yard. Overall, it wasn't bad.

Spot had zoned out and jerked around when he saw Amelia come in with white flowery sheets. Amelia bent over to put the farthest corner edge under the mattress.

"Whadd're ya doin'?" He asked her, his eyebrows furrowing.

Amelia smirked. "If I don't put these sheets on your bed you may freeze to death."

Spot shrugged uncomfortably and mumbled. "Bettah freeze 'den live wid' flowery sheets."

Amelia looked at Spot with a quizzical eye, and Spot explained himself as if he had been insulted.

"They're just sheets," Amelia said, her lips slightly curling up while she tried to hold back a giggle.

"Jist take 'em off," Spot said sternly. Amelia looked at him like he was crazy. She was waiting for him to shrug it off and say it was no big deal, but his face showed no sign of changing his mind. Amelia rolled her eyes and ripped the sheet off with one swift move.

"Fine. Then you can _freeze_," she replied, her suddenly fiery eyes piercing into his angry ones. She let them linger there as if to say, "fuck you, you're a jackass". She then walked off, leaving Spot dumbfounded as he noticed her hips moving seductively from side to side.

God dammit… why did he always have to be so stubborn? Amelia knew it wasn't about the sheets; she discovered a part of his personality that she hated, and he a part of hers that scared him shitless.

He heard the front door to the guest house slam, and he went to the front window to watch her briskly walking away and taking Agatha's hand as she found her running in the yard.

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Spot went to the house after cooling off to get instructions from Mr. Netherfield, seeing as he would need to start working as soon as possible. Spot was then told to go to the kitchen and wash the dishes that Mildred had used to cook dinner.

As soon as Spot walked down the steps to the kitchen, he froze. He saw Amelia and Mildred talking about something that apparently made them very, very mad. Spot stayed in the same position as Mildred and Amelia looked at each other, then Mildred finally spoke.

"You must be the little scoundrel," Mildred said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's Spot," he said, trying not to sound angry.

"Well Spot, what are you doing in here?" Mildred asked, as though men didn't have a place in the kitchen.

"I'se was told by Mr. Netherfield ta wash the doity dishes." Mildred frowned at first, like she didn't understand what he had said. Amelia held her palm out and made a circling pattern with the other hand.

"Oh – wash the dishes!" Mildred smiled. "They're in the sink."

Spot rolled his eyes. _Ya gotta be kiddin' me. 'Dat lady din't even know what I'se was sayin'?_

"Amelia, be a dear and grab my coat out of the closet, will you? I've got to run to the store to pick up a ham for tomorrow night's dinner. And while you're at it, call in the children. Might as well take them for a bit of fresh air." Amelia nodded, glancing over at Spot, who was starting to wash the dishes.

"Do you need some help?" Amelia asked in an indifferent manner, already starting on a pot. _Christ. She's still angry. _

"Uh… shoah," Spot answered, partly because he wanted to finish sooner, and partly because she had already started doing them.

Amelia scrubbed furiously at the pot, making Spot very aware that she was still angry, if he didn't already notice. The only contact she made was him was when she leaned over him for the towel, and he noticed the generous-sized diamond ring on her delicate finger. When Amelia went back to scrubbing, Spot sighed.

"I'se sorry." Amelia thought she heard Spot say he was sorry, but she couldn't be sure because the water was running.

"What did you say?" Amelia asked, her doe eyes finally meeting his face.

"I said…" Spot turned off the faucet. "I'se sorry."

A small smile formed on Amelia's lips as if you say, _I knew you'd eventually say it._

"It's alright."

"So uh… 'dat ring on your finger…" Spot trailed off. Amelia looked at him expectantly.

"Did it belong to ya muddah or somedin'?"

"No," Amelia answered. "I'm engaged."

Spot's face froze for several seconds, and he watched in bewilderment as Amelia continued to wash the dishes.

"Who – who are ya marryin'?" Spot asked, his stomach churning as the words came out.

Amelia didn't answer for a while, not wanting to get into this conversation with Spot. But she realized that in a few days, he would figure it out anyway.

"Wesley."


End file.
